Roy Just Can't Wait To Be King
by Kuroida
Summary: The first reason why Roy wanted to be Fuhrer: he hates swimming. Rated for major swearing. slight AU


_"Fuck swimming. Fuck my parents. Fuck everyone. Fuck the world. Fuck my life."_

The small room was a disaster zone. Books and random sheets of paper littered every inch of it. An old chess set lay in the corner, pieces broken and littering the floor while the record player was currently upside down and there was little chance of it playing anything now.

_"Fuck swimming. Fuck my parents. Fuck everyone. Fuck the world. Fuck mylife."_

And in the middle of the chaos and destruction was 16 year old Roy Mustang, head furiously repeating his own silent mantra, face buried in a comic book and hands busy shoving a weird combination of sour cream and onion dip and crab meat into his mouth.

His best friend, Maes, called it paste. His mother called it unhealthy and his father called it downright disgusting but Roy didn't really give a shit about what they thought at the moment.

_"Fuck swimming. Fuck my parents. Fuck everyone. Fuck the world. Fuck mylife."_

Now, why in the world was such a boy so...angry?

Well, to put it quite simply, for the past 5 hour he'd been forced to swim, actually, to be more precise, he was training to become a lifeguard...in a pool... for 5 bloody fucking hours!

And to top it all off he'd have to do it again tomorrow, and the next day and the day after that and the weekend after that too!

And Roy **hated **swimming.

The stench of the chemical infested water, the people, the exposure (no, Roy wasn't a huge fan of touching people he didn't know, half naked mind you).

But would his parents listen?

No, of course not.

"What kind of man doesn't know how to swim?"

"This will help you get a job in the future. Don't you want that?"

"You've already come this far. Why not go all the way?"

That's what his parents had been repeating to him since he was fucking 3 years old. Back then he went along with his parent's plans. Hell, he'd barely even been able to_ say _"swimming" much less _do_ it.

And half of the excuses didn't even work anymore.

He** knew **how to swim. Fuck, if he had to do another course like that he'd know how to drown too.

Roy didn't have the lung capacity to half of this stuff.

First task: dive down to the bottom of the pool and get a brick. Not only did the brick weight like a fucking elephant but did it really have to be at the bottom of the pool? Roy was pretty scientific about all this. Hell, he got the best marks in the class in science and if there was one thing you learned it was when a person dies they fucking float!

Not to mention why can't you breathe in water? It's technically made up of partially oxygen right? Roy figured he'd leave that to research for some other time.

Anyways, second task: do a carry so that the person's shoulders are out of the water. Well fuck that. Remember how Roy hated the exposure? Well hell, if there was one thing he did like it was _breathing_! Which was fucking impossible while carrying someone on your hip by the way.

The job option? Please, Roy didn't know what he was going to be when he grew up but if it concerned the stench of chlorine and obnoxious little brats then you could leave him out. It wasn't like all his friends, who weren't training to be lifeguards, had a _less _of a chance of getting a job_._ Hell, Maes was the best student in his grade and did _he_ ever have to swim? No!

So, now the only reason had been that he'd already "come so far."

Really, Roy couldn't argue with that. He'd already wasted 13 years of his life doing this (hating it more and more with every year) but still! Where he'd be going he was almost positive it wouldn't require _lifeguard training_!

_"Fuck swimming. Fuck my parents. Fuck everyone. Fuck the world. Fuck mylife."_

And now, five hours, one thousand drowning attempts, fifty pathetic dives, way too many touches, no dinner and a long, _long _shower later he was in his room. Doing his best to read and eat and swear at anything that moved.

Roy absently licked his finger to turn the page and almost instantly spat it back out.

_"Fuck, still tastes like chlorine."_

He needed another shower.

Unfortunately, he'd already been in the shower...for over an hour...he swore he'd dumped so much stuff into his hair that the mixtures had become toxic(one couldn't really tell if it was all shampoo. Roy was 70% sure one of the bottles had the flammable warning logo on it...) but at least now it didn't smell like chlorine.

His skin was another problem. Five hours in a chlorine infested pool and his fingers and toes were shrivelled up like prunes, his whole body itched and parts of his skin was starting to peel off in large strips. When he'd come home he'd scrubbed his body raw with soap but to little avail.

Not to mention that nearing the one hour mark he'd run out of hot water. Roy had stared at the shower for a few minutes after that, determined that it was mocking him.

He'd just finished up his "paste" when, quite suddenly a voice rang out and the comic book he had been holding vanished from his hands.

"What are you doing?" the stern voice of his father asked and Roy looked up to find his father towering over him. His precious comic book in hand.

He didn't look like he was in a good mood. Roy suspected it had something to do with attitude when he'd come home or the fact that he'd used up all the hot water. It didn't really matter to him. He felt entitled to his anger.

"Reading?" Roy answered, trying his best to keep his voice neutral and not sarcastic.

"Why's this room such a mess? Clean it up right now and you left your swim wear downstairs. I want it picked up," his father told him before he left the room, Roy's comic in tow.

Roy ground his teeth and his mantra returned full force.

_"Fuck swimming. Fuck my parents. Fuck everyone. Fuck the world. Fuck mylife."_

Of course his room was a mess. He'd kicked over his bloody book shelf as soon as he'd come home in his anger at the stupid swimming thing and to be quite honest, he'd been quite pleased at the mess. Nevertheless it would take probably an hour to clean.

Roy checked the time. 11:30pm. Fuck, when he finished this he'd probably have to go to bed. Swimming started again at 10am after all.

_"Fuck swimming. Fuck my parents. Fuck everyone. Fuck the world. Fuck mylife."_

No, he wasn't suicidal but let's not rule out mass murderer.

_"Maybe that's why there's so many of them loose. I don't blame them."_

Roy found a few coins on the floor. He absently flicked one up into the air but missed it on its way down. The coin dropped into shirt and, after some rummaging Roy felt it go down his pants leg and land painfully on his toe.

Roy stared. Even the _coins_ were mocking him!

Frustrated, he threw the coins into his piggy bank and resumed cleaning.

A book here, a piece of paper there, a poster, a few old records and was that chocolate bar still edible? Nope. Damn.

Roy now wasn't even sure what had been on his book shelf and what was just trash but as he continued cleaning in silence he was dimly aware of loud music coming from the house next door. Taking a quick peek out the window confirmed a party and oh boy, if Roy had been angry before, this was _rage._

_"Fuck swimming! Fuck my parents! Fuck everyone! Fuck the world! Fuck my** life**!"_

Roy returned back to his cleaning with his mind ablaze. How could his neighbours be so fucking _happy_? Oh yes, this was first day of summer break. He'd almost forgotten with his busy schedule. No thanks to his parents.

He realized he could also be out there, partying with his friends until half past dawn and not giving a shit. But was he? No! Why? Because of stupid fucking _swimming_!

_"Fuck swimming! Fuck my parents! Fuck everyone! Fuck the world! Fuck my** LIFE**!"_

Roy was by now so angry that he punctuated the last word of his mantra by kicking the chess set half way across the room and straight into the wall.

It fell to the floor with a clatter and the last piece that was still in the set rolled out to Roy's feet.

Roy stared at it.

The white king stared back.

Slowly a smile worked up onto Roy's face and he bent down to pick up the piece. Yes, that was it. He'd become king. If he was king he'd no longer have to swim! He could go all out and ban swimming in the entire country!

Yes, it was a wonderful idea.

"Roy! Bed time!" his mother called out from downstairs.

Too bad he wasn't king now.

_"Fuck swimming! Fuck my parents! Fuck everyone! Fuck the world! Fuck my** life**!"_

* * *

A/N: Honestly, stick my name wherever it says "Roy" and that was how I was feeling two nights ago _

I just wrote this to vent :P

Review if you want.


End file.
